


Picking Up the Pieces

by Sand_wolf579



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Donald is the Best Uncle, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e22 The Last Crash of the Sunchaser!, Everything Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Fights, Gen, everybody needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-27 05:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15678759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sand_wolf579/pseuds/Sand_wolf579
Summary: Donald hadn't expected things to go back to normal when he and the boys moved back to the houseboat, but he knew that they would get there as soon as they settled in again.Until then, he just wished that the boys would stop fighting with each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> By raise of hands, who here was completely destroyed by The Last Crash of the Sunchaser? That episode...just, wow, talk about a punch right in the feels. Anyways, I figured that Huey, Dewey, and Louie would have a lot of ugly lingering feelings after all that, and we didn't really see it. So I thought I would write about Donald dealing with the aftermath, because he's an amazing uncle and that deserves to be portrayed more.

Donald had anger issues. He knew that he did, he had long since stopped being in denial about it. Donald didn't pretend to think that he had necessarily gotten better over the years, but he had definitely started to feel more of a numb anger. It was just so exhausting to throw a temper tantrum, and since what had happened to Della, Donald just didn't have that energy anymore. He just felt so tired all the time.

Besides, Donald knew that his temper could make him rather intimidating, and he didn't want to scare the three boys. Keeping them happy and safe was much more important than his own individual needs.

Donald had never been proud of his anger, but it had definitely come in handy when it came to raising his nephews. None of the boys had as much of a temper as he did, thank goodness for that, but they were still Ducks. Stubbornness and pride ran in the family. For the most part, the boys got along with each other famously, but they definitely had their fair amount of fights.

Because they didn't fight very often, things could got pretty intense when they did, though it all depended on who the fight was between. Louie and Dewey fought fairly often, but they were never that bad. A tease that went a hair too far here. An angry shove there. It was barely more than a bicker, and Huey was always right there to intervene before things went too far between his brothers.

Huey and Louie very rarely fought with each other, and it absolutely never got physical. Their arguments were more of a battle of wits than anything. Never the kind of thing that Donald had to worry about, which he was extremely grateful for. He didn't want to deal with what would happen if Huey's temper, and his quick and sharp words really went against Louie's tendency to not recognize when he took things a step too far, and his overly sensitive nature. If those two ever really went at it, Donald was scared that somebody would really get hurt.

As fights between Huey and Louie hadn't escalated to that level yet, and hopefully never would, the worst pairing for a sibling fight had to be between Huey and Dewey. The two of them had butt heads when they were younger, but as they got older they had started to fight more and more often.

Personality wise, Huey and Dewey were probably the most similar, but also the most different, and that was a very dangerous combination. They were both so firm and stubborn about their beliefs. They would argue and fight until they had convinced the other that they were right. If that was all they did, it wouldn't be that much of an issue. Donald could handle shouting, or even the ocasional shove, but when things got bad, Huey and Dewey both took things a step too far, and neither of them probably had an idea of how.

When it came to a differing matter of opinions, as far as the boys were concerned, the opinion that was the correct one was the one that the majority believed was true. When Huey and Dewey's arguments got so bad that they knew they wouldn't be able to bring the other to their side, their only other choice was to involve a third party. And as they were triplets, there was always a third party handy.

Louie put on a tough act of indifference, but he was extremely sensitive. He didn't have a problem with those around him fighting or yelling, even when it was his brothers. Sometimes, Louie was even amused by passionate debates, and he wasn't afraid to say something to egg one or both of them on.

Despite this, Louie could never handle it very well when his brothers tried to get him on their side. Louie often couldn't care less about what they were arguing about, but even if he did have an opinion, he couldn't choose between his brothers. One time a few years ago Louie had tried to side with Dewey just to get them to stop. Neither of his brothers had reacted well.

Huey had been outraged, claiming that his brothers always ganged up on him. Dewey had also gotten angry at Louie, because he had known that the hoodie wearing triplet had only sided with him to appease him. Dewey hadn't wanted to be humored, he had wanted to be right.

Louie looked up to Huey and Dewey. They were his older brothers. Though he would never admit it, Donald knew that Louie idolized them. He hadn't been able to handle having both of his brothers mad at him, especially when he didn't fully understand what he had done wrong. This had been one of the only fights that Donald had felt the need to interfere with.

Thankfully, things hadn't gotten that bad since then, though Donald had a feeling that his luck was about to change. The boys did their best to be patient with each other and their living circumstances, but the house boat was a small one. Tensions could run high, and there wasn't much room to get away from each other if they were starting to feel the need for some space. Sometimes, things just became too much, and a fight would happen.

And that was just under normal circumstances, before they had even started to stay with Scrooge. Now that they were back to living on the houseboat, it would probably feel smaller than ever. The boys would probably be short with each no matter what terms they had left Scrooge's mansion on. But they had left on what was probably the worst possible terms.

The boys knew about the Spear of Selene. They were understandably furious with Scrooge, and upset with the circumstances, just like Donald had been for so many years. He couldn't blame them for how they felt, but it definitely made things at home harder.

Though, Donald wished that the boys would have waited for more than just two days to take their frustrations out at each other.

"Don't tell me how I should feel, Hubert!" Dewey's shout was the first indication that Donald got that a fight was in the works, and he had a bad feeling that it would be a bad one. Donald sighed and made his way towards the kitchen where the boys were.

"I'm not." Huey said in his 'big brother' voice, which, while useful to calm Louie down when he was angry or upset, usually only served to make Dewey feel like he was being patronized. "I'm just saying that you shouldn't be so mad at Scrooge and Uncle Donald."

"Uh, that kinda is telling him how he's supposed to feel." Louie said.

"Not now, Louie." Huey and Dewey said at the same time, which made Donald feel on edge. He had never heard the boys try to keep each other out of their arguments. This couldn't be anything good.

"Stop acting like you're so high and mighty." Dewey said, presumably to Huey. "You're just as mad at them as I am."

"I'm...upset." Huey said. "I don't like what happened anymore than you do, but I'm not going to hate our family for it."

"They should have told us." Dewey insisted, and his tone just about broke Donald's heart. He had known for years that he shouldn't keep what had happened to their mother a secret, but it was just so hard for him to talk about.

"Now who's the high and mighty one, Dewford?" Huey asked, his frustration creeping into his voice. "You're one to say that our uncles should have told us secret information about our mom."

"You said you were over that!" Dewey said accusingly.

"You kept information about mom from us." Huey said sharply. "That's not something that I can just get over." Donald frowned. Dewey had found information about their mom and then kept it from his brothers? No wonder Huey was upset.

"Guys, come on, don't fight like this." Louie said, which was odd. He never tried to mediate his brothers' arguments. Donald felt more and more like he should interfere, but he was held back. If he went in there, Dewey's anger would be redirected towards him, which Donald didn't mind, but this was the first clue that Donald got about how his boys were feeling. They just weren't talking to him, and it drove him crazy that he didn't know what was on their minds.

The boys were quiet for a moment before Huey started up even worse than he had before. "Do you see what you're doing?!" Huey shouted, his voice cracking, which was a sign that he was really losing it. "You upset Louie."

"I upset Louie?" Dewey's voice wavered. He seemed to be more upset about being accused of upsetting his baby brother than he had been when Huey had been upset at him for keeping secrets. "You're the one that Louie looks up to. Your anger is probably scaring him."

"Stop it!" Louie screamed, and Donald decided that enough was enough. There were better ways for him to figure out what how the boys felt. Letting them go at it just gave them the opportunity to find excuses to redirect their anger.

"Enough." Donald went into the kitchen to break up the fight. He physically stood between Dewey and Huey, in case they escalated to shoving each other around or something worse. Huey and Dewey seethed at each other, but at that moment Donald's attention was on Louie. The hoodie wearing boy was stiff, his head lowered and his eyes to the floor. Louie was a confident boy, so Donald knew that if he was quiet and unwilling to make eye contact, it was probably because he was about to start crying and he didn't want anybody to know.

Enough was enough. Donald needed to deal with this before it got worse. "Dewey, go to your room, Louie, on deck, Huey, stay in here." If his boys were mad at each other, Donald needed to keep them isolated until they calmed down. He intended to find out what was going on, but he would do it by talking to the boys themselves. No more eavesdropping.

Louie was all too eager to go up on deck. Donald intended to talk with him, same as his brothers, but not to calm him down. Louie didn't seem to be angry like his brothers, he was just extremely upset.

If Donald could, he would comfort Louie first, but he needed to have words with Huey and Dewey. Their anger had gotten out of control. Donald would talk to Huey first, as he was the oldest, the one who felt the need to be responsible, and the one who would be most likely to be reasoned with.

Dewey, who was clearly furious, was much more reluctant to go to their room. Dewey hated being treated like a child, even though he was well aware that he still was one. Dewey wasn't happy about the childish punishment, but he did as Donald said. As angry as Dewey was, he had to know that he either had to go to their room, or he would be the first that Donald talked to, and he wanted that even less.

Once the youngest two had left, Donald was able to have his full attention on Huey. "You obviously have a lot on your mind, so let's talk."

Huey sighed and sat down at the table. Donald could tell that he was just as frustrated and upset as Dewey was, but he was doing his best to get his emotions under control. Huey was probably the most tempermental of the boys, but also the most level headed. Huey struggled to have control during the heat of the moment, but after the fact, he was quickly able to calm down.

Normally, Donald was extremely proud of Huey for getting a hold of his anger easier than he ever was able to, but at that moment, it wasn't what they needed. Donald wanted to know what was on Huey's mind, he wanted to know what was bothering him so much, and he wouldn't know if Huey just masked his anger like he usually did.

"Don't sugarcoat things, Huey." Donald said quietly. "Talk to me."

Huey frowned and began to draw invisible patterns on the table with his finger. "...Why did you keep this a secret all this time?"

Donald sighed and took a seat across from his nephew. "I don't have a good reason." He admitted. He had told himself for years that he had just been trying to protect the boys, but he knew that the one he had been trying to protect had been himself. "It was...hard to talk about her."

"I know it is." Huey's face scrunched up slightly in distress. "But...she's our mom."

"I know." Donald looked down at the table. His gut felt like it was twisting up in on itself. "I'm sorry."

Huey paused in his pattern making. "...I'm not mad about what happened." Huey said, and Donald could hear the sincerity in his voice. "Nobody meant for it to happen. I don't think anybody's blameless," Donald didn't either. "But no single person should have to shoulder all of the blame."

Donald smiled sadly. Huey was a lot more mature than him on that. Donald had spent the past twelve years blaming Scrooge for what had happened. Sometimes, when Donald was having a particularly hard time with the boys, he would blame Della, because as reckless as Scrooge had been, nobody had forced her to go into space.

And then there were the dark days, where Donald's grief over his sister was so strong that he blamed the boys, who hadn't even been hatched at the time, for what had happened. Della had always been adventurous, but she had gotten particularly restless shortly after laying her eggs. She had known that she would be a mother, but she wasn't ready to settle down yet. She needed to have one last big adventure. Donald knew that she would have wanted this massive adventure at one point or another, but a small part of him still believed that if the boys hadn't been about to hatch, Della wouldn't have gotten so reckless and desperate, and she might still be here.

Donald didn't linger on those thoughts...he couldn't linger on those thoughts.

"If you're not mad, why are you so upset?" Donald asked. Huey may lose his temper more than his brother's did, but he didn't often get angry about somebody else being angry. Huey may not be mad about what had happened to their mother, but he had to be mad about something. If he wasn't, then he wouldn't have gone off on Dewey as badly as he had.

Huey scowled and slid his hand off the table. Even though Donald couldn't see it, he knew that Huey was clutching at his shirt in an effort to keep himself calm. "I...I hate how you guys have been keeping secrets from us. We're family, we shouldn't keep secrets from each other."

Donald winced slightly. He had always been so worried about how the boys would react when they learned about what happened to their mom. He had never given any thought to how the boys would react just to the fact that they had kept something like this a secret for so long. Donald should have known though. He should have known Huey, who loved nothing more than to solve every mystery he came across, who got anxious when he encountered something that he wasn't knowledgeable about, would have taken it as a personal offense that his family had kept a secret from him.

"You and Scrooge didn't tell us what happened to our mom." Huey hunched slightly in on himself, almost protectively. "And then Dewey started keeping secrets too." Huey's voice gradually got quieter, almost like he was talking to himself more than he was to Donald. "I just...I don't understand it."

Donald sighed, feeling even more guilty than he had before. "I'm sorry." He said. "I know I should have told you boys about your mom, but…" Donald trailed off and tried to maintain a neutral expression. He didn't want the boys to know how upset and hurt he was about what had happened to his sister, even after all these years.

Unfortunately, Huey had always been an observant child. "You know, the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook says that talking about something that's upsetting you can be really therapeutic."

Donald hated the thought of talking about his feelings, but he knew that Huey was right. And even if talking about Della didn't make Donald feel better, it would probably help the boys. Donald barely even mentioned Della, so the boys would probably cling to and take comfort from even the smallest bit of information he could give them.

Donald didn't know if he was ready to talk about Della, but he knew that he should. Della may be his sister, but she was also the boys' mother, and they had the right to know her. "I'll keep that in mind." Donald said, though he didn't make any promises. "Is there anything else that you want to talk about?"

Huey thought for a moment. "...Nah, I think I'm good."

Donald stood up and reached across the table to ruffle Huey's hair. "In that case, do you mind getting started on dinner while I talk to your brothers?"

Huey's eyes widened. "Potentially burn the houseboat straight into the ocean, or confront my probably furious brothers? Sure, I can get started on food."

Donald grimaced, already regretting his decision to ask Huey for help. As resourceful and intelligent as the boy was, he had a tendency to get rather creative when he made food. And his taste buds were about as refined as a rock's. "Just stick to the recipe this time." Donald made a mental note to keep his conversations with Dewey and Louie short so he could get back to the kitchen before Huey could do too much damage.

Donald left Huey and headed towards the boy's room. As he approached the door he heard loud thumps, probably from pillows being smacked into the floor, and short shouts of frustration. It sounded like Dewey hadn't calmed in the short minutes of solitude. If anything, Donald would venture a guess that Dewey was even more irritated than he had been before.

Donald jumped and let out a squawk like noise when he heard a pillow harshly hit the door. He realized that he would probably be very lucky to get to the end of the conversation without being knocked around by a pillow or punched with his nephew's bare hands. Donald suddenly felt much more like he was about to walk into a lion's den rather than his nephews' bedroom.

This wasn't going to be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

Donald considered entering the boys’ room without knocking, but he ultimately decided against it. Dewey may already be expecting him, but that was no excuse for being rude. Besides, Dewey was already furious with Donald, and it would probably be smarter to not give him any more reasons to be angry. So Donald gently knocked on the door, and another pillow was thrown at the door in response.

“Go away, Uncle Donald!” Dewey shouted. “I’m not listening to anything you have to say, you...you traitor.”

Donald grimaced. Dewey must be really upset if that was the worst he could come up with to say to him. Dewey was normally the master at taunting, and he could usually come up with something to say that would hit those that he was mad at right where it hurt the most.

“Would it be okay if I listened to what you have to say?” Donald knew that getting things off one’s chest was a fast and often efficient way to stop being as angry. It wasn’t exactly a cure all, but it helped. Donald didn’t necessarily want to be yelled at by Dewey, but if it would ultimately end up helping the boy, he would live with it.

Dewey was silent for a moment before he slowly opened the bedroom door just enough to glare at his uncle. “What if I don’t have anything to say to you?”

Donald barely kept himself from rolling his eyes or crossing his arms. He didn’t want to make Dewey think that he was patronizing him or didn’t think that what he had to say was worth listening to. “We both know you’re mad at me. I would rather you actually take that anger out on me than your brothers again.”

A flash of guilt came into Dewey’s eyes. As angry as he was, he didn’t want to hurt his brothers. Dewey sighed and opened the door wider. “Fine.” He said reluctantly.

Donald went into the room and closed the door behind him. He knew it wouldn’t do everything to keep the noise in the room, but it might do something to keep Huey from barging in when he inevitably heard shouting. Donald also hoped that Louie didn’t hear their argument at all. Donald would be going to talk to Louie after he was done with Dewey, and he wanted him to be as calm as he could be when they talked.

Donald sat down on the small mattress that was Huey’s bed. He was always surprised at just how small the room was. It wouldn’t hold all three of the boys forever, but he would think about that later. At that moment, he had to focus on Dewey, who was sitting on his own bed. Dewey clutched a pillow tightly to his chest, though Donald didn’t know if it was because he wanted comfort, or because he wanted to have ammo on hand.

The two of them sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, and they were both getting antsy because of it. Neither Donald nor Dewey felt comfortable in silence, especially not when there was clearly something that needed to be said. Donald was tempted to get the conversation going, but he knew that he shouldn’t. He had told Dewey that he was there to listen to him, which meant that he had to wait until Dewey was comfortable saying what he had to say.

Finally, Dewey either figured out his own thoughts enough to vocalize them, or he had gotten bored enough that he just wanted to break the silence. “...How do you deal with it all the time?” Dewey’s voice was quiet and Donald could hear the underlying hurt and anger.

Unfortunately, Donald didn’t know exactly what the hurt and anger was for, because he didn’t know what Dewey’s question meant. “Deal with what?” 

Dewey tightened his grip on the pillow. “This.” Even though his hands were occupied Dewey somehow managed to gesture in Donald’s general direction. “Just, being so mad, all the time.” Dewey buried his face in the pillow. “I hate it.”

“I know.” Donald sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He had really hoped that his boys wouldn’t have to deal with anger to the extent that he did. Being angry just took so much energy, and clouded one's judgement. It was an ugly, harsh feeling that sometimes felt like it could swallow one whole. If he could spare the boys from feeling angry altogether, he would, but that just wasn’t possible.

The best that Donald could do was give his boys advice on how to cope with it. Though, considering Donald himself was still learning how to deal with his own anger, he didn’t know how good his advice could be.

“I don’t even know what I’m so mad about.” Dewey complained as he pulled his face away from the pillow so that he could glare at it. “I mean, yeah, what happened to mom sucks, a lot, and I still kinda blame Scrooge, but I also kinda don’t?” Dewey looked up at Donald almost pleadingly, like he wanted to be assured that his contradictory feelings weren’t crazy.

“I feel the same way.” Donald said. He had never really gotten over the part that Scrooge had played in Della’s disappearance, but over the years he had come to recognize that Scrooge hadn’t been solely responsible.

“But then, why do I still feel so mad?” Dewey asked. “I feel like I hate him, but I don’t.” Donald was familiar with the feeling. “I want to make others feel what I’m feeling, but I also don’t, because it sucks.” It was almost like Donald was listening to his own thoughts being spoken back to him. “I know that I shouldn’t be feeling like this still, but I do, and I don’t understand why. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Anger doesn’t make sense.” Donald said. In his experience (and throughout his life he’d had a lot of experience) anger was the complete opposite of logic and sense. It was pure, untamed rage that could do two things, destroy, and defend. Logic didn’t really have any part in there.

“So what do I do?” Dewey asked desperately. “I just...I don’t want to feel this way anymore.” Donald understood the sentiment all too well.

“Talking about it might help.” Donald suggested.

Dewey thought for a moment before he shook his head. “Somehow, I think that’ll just get me even more angry for no reason.” Donald understood. While talking issues through could be a weight off one’s shoulders, it could also just increase the burden. Donald didn’t know how to tell when anger needed to be addressed, or when it should be left alone, but if anybody knew what would be best for Dewey in this instance, it would be Dewey himself.

“Do you want to be left alone to calm down for a few more minutes?” Donald asked, because sometimes, that was all that could be done. He had been prepared to talk with Dewey about his issues, but if the boy already recognized that he wasn’t actually mad anymore, it was just a matter of time before his heart caught up with his brain at this realization. At that point (hopefully) the angry feelings would go away for good.

Dewey nodded sheepishly. “Are you going to make me apologize to Huey first?” Donald believed that he should apologize to both of his brothers, but this wasn’t the time to bring that up.

Donald shook his head. “That can wait until after dinner.” Dewey and Huey’s apologies to each other and Louie would probably be much more sincere and have a smaller chance of ending in another fight if they had the time to cool down beforehand.

Donald stood up, but before he left he grabbed Huey’s phone from where he had left it on his bed. He knew that the boys didn’t like it when others used their things, but he knew that Huey would understand. “Why don’t you listen to some music?” Donald tossed the phone to Dewey, who caught it with ease.

“Uh, sure.” Dewey shrugged. He had a different taste in music than Huey’s, but Donald thought that Huey’s preference for classical and calmer music with gentle lyrics would do more to calm Dewey down than his energetic and loud rock music would. And softer, unfamiliar music might do more to encourage Dewey to reflect on his feelings instead of just distracting him from it. 

“I’m here, if you need to talk.” Donald went to the other side of the room, which only took three steps, and ruffled Dewey’s hair. “Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.” Dewey looked up at Donald and gave him a slightly strained, but still sincere, smile. “Thanks, Uncle Donald.” The older duck gave his nephew an encouraging and comforting squeeze on the shoulder before he made his way out of the room. After he closed the door behind him, Donald breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back against the door. That conversation had gone much better than he thought it would have. Dewey was growing up.

Feeling much more relaxed than he had been all day, Donald made his way back into the kitchen. Huey was still there, cutting the vegetables in perfectly even pieces. Huey looked up in shock when he heard him.

“Wow, that took less time than I thought it would.” Huey commented.

“I’m as surprised as you are.” Donald said as he looked over the food that Huey had already prepared. He had to put away three necessary spices that Huey had probably been hoping to add, but aside from that, Donald was pleased at how well the boy had followed instructions. “Do you know if Louie’s still up on deck?”

“I think so.” Huey shrugged. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Of course you haven’t.” So much for feeling relaxed. Donald knew that he didn’t have anything to worry about. After all, he had told Louie to go on deck, and none of them had given him any indication that it was safe to come back in. Still, Donald couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

This was a feeling that Donald frequently got when it came to the boys. Even when he knew that everything was perfectly safe, he couldn’t help but worry that something horrible was just about to happen.

Trying to get himself to calm down, Donald went on deck to find his final nephew. He felt like his heart stopped beating for a moment when he didn’t immediately see Louie waiting for him. A quick walk around the deck confirmed what Donald had been worried about.

Louie wasn’t there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is a lot shorter than I thought it would be. I had planned on having Dewey actually yelling at Donald, but I couldn't think of what he would be mad about, so that's where what I actually wrote came from. Hopefully it's still okay, and the next chapter should be longer, because Louie is my favorite of the boys, and I tend to have an easier time writing about characters that I enjoy more.
> 
> Seriously though, anger is a lot harder to portray than I feel like it should be. It's arguably the most basic of emotions, so why is it so dang complicated to write?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started this I had the goal to have it finished before the season finale, and I can't believe I did it. Not only did I do it, but I did it with more than a day to spare. I'm actually feeling kinda proud of myself.

Donald was fairly certain that his boys would be the death of him one of these days. He tried to look out for them, which was really hard to do without being overbearing and overprotective. He thought he did an okay job at it, but then the boys kept on finding themselves in ridiculous and impossible situations that nearly gave him a heart attack every single time.

Donald didn't know whether it had gotten better as the boys had gotten older, or if it had gotten worse. On one hand, as the boys grew more capable of taking care of themselves and each other, they got better at getting themselves out of trouble. On the other hand though, as they grew more independent they ended up getting themselves in more and more situations.

Donald didn't know if they did it on purpose, or if it was just his bad luck rubbing off on them, but the boys were always finding themselves in trouble. Donald did what he could to get them out of it, and nothing really horrible had happened yet. Still, he was their uncle, it was his job to worry about them, whether they wanted him to or not.

It didn't matter if it was something as simple as one of them having a slight cold, or as serious as them getting into fights at school, Donald worried. The thing that probably concerned him most though was when one of his boys went missing.

It didn't normally mean anything big. Most often it was Huey who wandered off because he had gotten distracted by an interesting rock formation, or an uncommon plant in the area. Dewey was the only one of the boys who really left on purpose, and that was more often than not a cry for attention. Dewey didn't really want to leave, he just wanted to know that he would be missed. Louie was probably the only one who didn't walk off for one reason or another. He would much rather stay in one spot, so the fact that he wasn't where he should be had Donald more concerned than he knew was rational.

His boy was missing. Donald thought that any parent or guardian in his position would throw rationality out the window if they were in his position.

It was as though Donald's brain temporarily shut down. He tried to think of possible locations where Louie might have run off to, but each of them felt more unlikely than the last. The only solution he could actually think of was to ask somebody else who wasn't nearly as emotional as he was where they thought Louie might have gone.

Fortunately, Donald knew that the someone he needed was just in the kitchen.

"Huey?" Donald shouted. "Do you know where Louie might have gone if he...wasn't here?" Donald didn't want to concern Huey by telling him that Louie was missing.

"Louie ran off?" Huey shouted back, though he sounded more thoughtful than concerned. Maybe Donald was just overreacting. "Well, he likes the beach."

The beach...Donald hadn't even considered it as an option, but he decided to give it a shot anyways. Huey probably knew Louie better than he did, so if he said he liked the beach, he probably liked the beach.

Donald just hoped that the beach he had in mind was the one that Huey had been talking about.

While Duckberg was right by the ocean, it didn't have a lot of beachy areas. Most of their 'beaches' were just sandy spots that weren't in a convenient enough location for a pier or shipping port to be there. There was such a spot only about a mile or two away. Donald used to take the boys there when they were young, but when Dewey had found a ruined amphitheater near the beach a few years ago, they had stopped going. Donald had gotten bad vibes about that amphitheater, and he didn't want his boys anywhere near it.

But if Huey said that was where Louie was, that was where he would check.

Fifteen minutes later Donald, who had run the entire way, got to the little shore and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a lone figure sitting near the water. Their back was to him, but Donald would be able to recognize the green hoodie anywhere. Donald slowed to a walk and approached his nephew. He knew that he would have to handle the boy with care, because Louie was wearing his hood, and he only ever did that when he felt the need to hide from the world.

Donald stopped when he was a few feet away from his nephew. He wanted so badly to wrap him in his arms and reassure him that everything was going to be okay, but he didn't want to overstep any boundaries. Louie didn't like being babied unless it was on his own terms, and if he was he often reacted by building his walls up even higher, and that was the last thing that Donald wanted.

"Louie?" Donald asked quietly. The slight stiffening in the boy's shoulders was the only indication he got that he had heard him at all. "Is there spot for one more?"

Louie was still for a moment before he shrugged. Donald knew that this was as much of an answer as he was going to get, and he walked those final feet until he was at Louie's side. Donald sat down on the sand next to Louie, though not too close to him, and joined him in watching the sun set over the horizon.

"How are you doing?" Donald asked after a few moments. Louie shrugged, which was much less informative than his previous shrug had been. Donald figured that he would have to try to try another method to get Louie to open up. "Huey and Dewey aren't fighting anymore. It's safe to go home."

"It's not just them." Louie said in a steady, nearly emotionless voice.

"So...what is it?" Donald asked, because he honestly wouldn't know if he didn't. Donald didn't even know what Louie was feeling, let alone why.

Louie shrugged again, and Donald was reminded of just how much he hated that gesture. "Everything."

"...You're going to have to be more specific than that." Donald said, because 'everything' was just slightly too broad a topic to tackle.

Louie raised his shoulders, and for a frustrating moment Donald thought that he was just going to shrug again. When Louie didn't lower his shoulders, Donald realized that he had become extremely tense, and he would have almost prefered that the boy had shrugged at him again.

"I don't know." Louie said quietly. "I just...so much stuff has happened, and it's all just kinda hit me at once."

"What kind of stuff?" Donald asked.

Louie drew his legs up close to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "Mom." He said simply, and that on its own would have been enough to upset anybody, but then Louie kept going. "And then Dewey found out some stuff about her, and he didn't tell us, and he always tells us everything." So Louie was upset about Dewey keeping secrets from them, just like Huey was. Donald made a mental note to make sure the boys talked this through later.

"And...and when S-Scrooge yelled at us he said that family was nothing but trouble." Louie buried his head in his arms, but Donald still heard the clear emotion in his voice. Louie was getting more and more upset. "We only figured out he was our uncle a few months ago, and now he hates us." Louie's voice had increased in volume and emotion as he went on.

"Hey now, he doesn't hate you." Donald tried to assure him, but Louie continued like he hadn't even heard him.

"And we almost died!" Louie cried out in near hysterics. "The plane was on the mountain, and every movement made it teeter and almost fall off."

Donald felt like he couldn't breath. Launchpad had briefly told him about their latest crash, but it was only now that he was able to form a mental image of just how close he had been to losing his boys. When he got his hands on Scrooge…

"We weren't supposed to move." Louie whimpered "Scrooge told us not to move, but Dewey didn't listen. He never listens. He just had to know the truth about what happened to mom. He almost...he could have…" Louie made a strange noise at the back of his throat that sounded almost like a whine, but more full of pain. "He didn't care. We all could have died, and he didn't...he just…"

Donald instinctively wrapped his arms around Louie and drew him close. Apparently this was the right move to make, as Louie gripped at his arms tightly as though it was a lifeline. The kid really hadn't been kidding when he'd said that 'everything' was bothering him.

Louie shivered and Donald tightened his grip around the boy. "Are you cold?" Donald asked, even though he doubted it was the case. There wasn't the smallest chill in the evening air, and Louie's hoodie had to be warmer than Donald's shirt was.

Louie shook his head. "...I feel funny." He said. "Wrong."

Donald's first guess was that Louie's shivering was just because of how upset he was, but for some reason he felt compelled to look down the beach, towards where the amphitheater was. In the twilight, shadows were more pronounced than they were during the rest of the day, but Donald didn't think that there should be so much darkness over there.

Louie was right. Something was wrong.

"Are you ready to go home?" Donald asked. He had a bad feeling about the amphitheater. Years ago, he would have probably gone to investigate. After what happened to Della, and twelve years of raising her boys, Donald had learned that sometimes it was best for some mysteries to remain unsolved.

"N-not really." Louie admitted quietly. "I like it here."

"Huey mentioned you did." Donald commented. "What do you like about it?" If Donald could somehow replicate what drew Louie to this place, he would gladly do it. Donald didn't want his boys anywhere near potential danger, even if at that moment the only danger was a paranoid feeling he had about a ruined old amphitheater that nobody had been to in years.

"It's quiet." Louie said. "N-nobody ever comes here. Nothing here can j-judge me, or h-hurt me." Louie sighed. "I-it's safe."

Donald knew that when Louie said that he didn't mean that he didn't think that he was safe at home, but it still stung to hear those words anyways. "Maybe I'll start to bring you boys back here." Donald didn't want to, but if the boys were going to come to this beach, he would rather they do it when he was around to protect them. "But I don't want you coming here, or leaving home, by yourself." And that went for all the boys. What if something happened to them when they were gone? Logically, Donald knew he couldn't protect his boys from everything, but that wouldn't keep him from trying.

"I won't." Louie said, and Donald could hear the sincerity in his voice, which was rare with Louie. "I think I'm kinda done being away from home." Donald was relieved to hear that, but also a little heartbroken. Louie was far too young and full of life to already be afraid to venture past his own front door the way that Donald was.

"Come on." Donald slowly and gently pulled his arm away from Louie's grip, and then immediately took his hand instead. Donald got to his feet, pulling Louie up too. "Let's go home."

"M'kay." Louie said quietly. Louie wasn't normally the clingy type, but as they started walking back he stood so closely to Donald that it was almost like he didn't want to be seen by anyone, or anything. Louie was scared, and upset, and in that moment he relied on Donald to keep him safe. Donald was more than happy to protect his nephew, but he still wished that it wasn't necessary. That Louie wasn't so afraid of what had happened.

Donald couldn't change what had happened, but he hoped that he would be able to do something to help his boys get over it all. That could wait until a little later though. At that moment, the only thing on Donald's mind was to get Louie home.

Just before they left the beach Donald felt a chill run down his spine. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a pair of moving shadows that were darker than they should be. Donald turned his head so sharply that he nearly gave himself whiplash, but he didn't see anything there.

"What's wrong?" Louie asked.

"I thought I saw something." Donald said. He knew that it had probably just been his imagination, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something else was going on. Something darker, dangerous. "It's probably nothing." The two of them continued on their way home. The farther they got from the beach, the more safe Donald felt. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen.

Something bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn't a very clean ending, but that's kinda the point. This is the end of the story though. The reason why it feels like it's leading up to something bigger is because it is, that something being the season finale in a few days. Donald is just sensing Magica's powers or something.


End file.
